Essence of the Divine - Part Two
by jakewhite35
Summary: New Domina is a dynamic world where the night and day chase each other at a crawling pace, forcing the denizens of the dark and the light to constantly be at each other's backs in a planet-wide cold war. When a follower of Saradomin, the God of Righteousness and Wisdom, sees a plan put forth that will violently end this uneasy cycle, his faith is put to the ultimate test.


Phane could not believe what he was witnessing. He beheld his own actions with a horror that upturned his stomach and brought prickly bumps across his fair skin. He shivered, and his two white wings rustled softly behind him as he channeled the fire spell at the smuggler's barn, knowing full well the contents.

Phane tried not to hear the little voices scream above the sound of the blaze. The smuggler Chussey was a piece of work, it's true, and Phane hadn't batted an eye when his captain executed him on the sight in the cluttered kitchen, seeing as he had fled Saradomin's justice and forfeited his right to a peaceful arrest. It was dictated by the Lord of Light that peace be achieved at any cost, personal or societal. Phane had done questionable things in the past in his service to the Icyenic Consulate. He had seen the little shapes running for cover as the icyene circled the remote farm from the air. He knew they were in the barn he was reducing to cinders. But his sense duty refused to let his magic stop until the whole barn was nothing but a colossal bonfire of collapsed frames and buried bodies for someone to find later.

He was just doing his job.

Phane was in fact a privileged young icyene. At the early age of only sixty he was appointed to a team of Silver Inquisitors, elite investigators committed to keeping the peace on the light New Domina. Phane had hoped there would be more heroism and less feeling-like-a-criminal. He had killed as an officer in the Winged Corps, the military police of the Icyenic Consulate, and he had killed as an Inquisitor now. Sometimes when he would trade magic attacks with a rogue icyene criminal he would feel the rush of victory as he and his team brought them low and severed their wings. He felt proud to be an Inquisitor then, when he felt his actions had furthered the cause of peace on New Domina. But that was not the case most days, including today.

Today Phane had taken the lives of at least six pygmies and whatever else the smuggler had alive in his barn; captured owls, lions, centaurs, skypouncers, maybe even icyene... Chussey was renowned for the trade of live game to the dark-dwellers who followed the night instead of the day as the icyene do. Dark-dwellers were rarely spoken of, but when Phane's captain, Padomenes, saw the Rolnik try to load his energizer weapon, the captain unleashed rage Phane had never witnessed before as he executed the tall sentient cat with a sword aglow in fire. Phane still smelled burnt fur.

With his arms and hands shaking Phane rejoined his team where they had arrived. A wet sack hung at Padomene's side, and he gave Phane a stern look when he caught him staring. He was four hundred years Phane's senior, and not even the oldest Inquisitor on this team. Padomenes was captain because he knew how to enact the will of Saradomin. Phane just wished sometimes that things didn't always have to end so bloody.

But so was life on New Domina. The world rotated no matter who lived or who died and every day the Icyene would prepare to follow the sun's light across the surface of their world. It took three hundred and twenty days for the sun to make a full rotation, for night to replace day and for day to replace night once more. And in these long nights the Icyene could not survive for long; the night was the realm of the Rolnik, eight-foot tall cats armed with teeth and claws and strange technology and a very bad temperament due to rarely ever seeing the sun. But their thick coats and predatory instinct made them survivors of the dark, in fact the nomadic families of the Rolnik thrived where they could. But as day encroached upon them, so came the icyene, and so they must be moving on as the chosen of Saradomin came to land where the sun touched. The entire world was a constantly shifting ball of tension as the two rival migratory species rotated around the sphere of the world. Icyene were considered the superior of the two races because of their wings and their ability to cross the world's many wide oceans and rivers without help, but the Rolnik always survived. The sea could never sink enough ships or drown enough cats to stop the tenacious Rolnik, without Saradomin's light to guide them or day's light to help them see. Sometimes Phane didn't understand how the race continued to exist at all.

Chussey was in fact the first dead Rolnik Phane had ever seen. The Icyene and Rolnik have had a fragile truce for as long as Phane and maybe even Padomenes were alive. But a murder here, an execution there, and the world always felt on the brink of an all-out war between the dark-dwellers and icyene. But no one liked to think about this possibility, so talk of the dark-dwellers was taboo unless completely necessary.

The Icyenic Consulate in Saradomin's City at the world's south pole, a tiny area always in the sun's glow, had threatened war against the Rolnik before. But the consuls were old and disconnected from the troubles of the migratory Icyene who barely survived on what they had, not to mention fighting a war in the Night. And no one had heard from the Head Consul in over a full rotation. A sabbatical, the Inquisitors were told, but Phane wondered if she still lived. So, while the Consulate's word was law and was considered as holy as words from Saradomin himself, not all the frontier Icyene farmers and gatherers respected their prattle, for sometimes that's all it was. Then an icyene would get ahead of themselves with the turn of night and violently push Rolnik from their homes before daybreak, and the Rolnik would send emissaries to the Roving Dawn (The moving border between night and day) informing the Icyene of almost-declarations of war, and the cycle would continue, both sides in a war colder and tenser than a frozen lake in the dead of Night.

Phane had spent sixty years, over sixty rotations of his world's sun, in this tense condition. He saw it on the faces of the other Icyene, on the faces of the nomadic bands of centaurs and the wild lions who hunted them. He saw it in the fragile, shivering pygmies who lived in both the night and day but feared the migratory dominant races more than any change in climate. He saw it in the skypouncers who kept some lucky icyene company, their instincts always encouraging them to run as far from their bond-mate as possible. He believed it was even in the eyes of the noble owls who kept the mobile icyene company and fueled their hearts with unknown magic. The sentient races of New Domina felt something waiting to erupt, and even some of the animals who dwelled in the Night could be seen running away from the Roving Dawn and the encroaching Icyene. And every day they acted against the Rolnik or the Consulate sent extra police to the Dawn, Phane wondered if today might be that day.

He wondered that now, as he eyed the pouch on Padomenes' belt. Whatever trophy he had taken from his kill was a war crime, and the Rolnik would treat it as such. To them, Chussey was nothing more than a mere poacher, and certainly didn't deserve the fate Padomenes brought him. The elite in the families of Rolnik supplies him with their trade, and surely would rebuke his execution. A knot tightened in Phane's stomach as he made his way back to the village of tents and looming stone buildings that the Winged Corps operated out of this time of the year. With boundary lines changing by the hour, not much permanent was built on New Domina.

No sooner had they landed than a centaur messenger galloped up to Padomenes. They weren't usually greeted, especially by a civilian. Not many non-Icyene served the Consulate, but the centaurs were considered the closest things to friends the Icyene had, as they too were forced to move with the sun, albeit their migration was assisted by magic instead of the gift of wings. But the centaur was no civilian, Phane noticed as she approached. A badge of office shone above her heart.

"Captain," the centaur greeted Padomenes tersely. "Word has come from the City. Saradomin be praised, her Ladyship has returned to the Consulate and has asked for the assembly of the Winged Corps at the pole right away."

"That explains the lack of Icyene here," Padomenes muttered as he leafed through the missive the centaur handed him. "Hold this post until we return. May the sun's light guide you," Padomenes said briskly to the centaur as he folded the missive between his armor plates.

"Saradomin be praised," replied the centaur.

Padomenes turned to us, his assembled team, all ready to hear our next orders. Padomenes looked us all over with his hard, gray eyes and I felt my and the other eight Inquisitors buckle just slightly under his gaze.

And suddenly, he laughed. A hearty, good-natured sound Phane had never heard from another member of the Inquisitors, least so Padomenes.

He took to their air in a great flap of his wings, and declared from twelve feet above our heads, "The Lady has returned! Praise Saradomin! Inquisitors, to the South Pole! To the city! Ha ha, praise Saradomin!" He laughed and praised the blue sheet of blue that was the sky of New Domina, broken only by the white glow of their precious sun.

The Icyene flew for over six hours in their V formation, every Icyene thankful for the Icyene in front of them for helping break the wind resistance. Padomenes headed the V, taking the full force of the air, but nothing could slow him down. The Head Consul has returned and this meant something to Padomenes that Phane didn't understand.

Over the horizon on an island covered in a swirling mix of sand and snow was the only permanent Icyenic settlement in existence. With a population of more than six thousand Icyene it was nothing short of miraculous compared with the "cities" that would pop up over the course of a rotation with numbers rarely ever reaching more than a few dozen. Saradomin's City was his gift to his chosen people; a place every Icyene could call home, no matter their place of birth or preferred residence. To every Icyene the glistening towers of melted metal and hot, blown sand were precious.

Padomenes landed first atop one of the cities many eyries. He signed off on a ledger stating his return and made his way, chest puffed, for the Consulate Building, a beautiful structure made of metal almost translucent. When Phane was young he insisted to his mother that it was made of ice, not metal, but the building was never cold to the touch thanks to the sun. Snow could blow onto the island from any direction, but Saradomin's light kept his city warm.

Phane followed behind his captain with the rest of his team and noticed the excited air of the city. Icyene flew about in the air, everyone in a hurry to get somewhere. In the narrow streets and alleys pygmies darted around carrying messages and parcels. The usual sound of hammers and anvil was replaced by the rushing of tiny feet, and the usually bustling market was crowded beyond belief as Icyene stood and flew so thick that one could not see one side from the other at almost any height or angle.

Padomenes avoided the flock and arced around its edge to arrive at one of the high balconies of the Consulate Building. Padomenes noticed with a frown that he was the last of the six Inquisitor teams to arrive. Proceedings began as soon as he furled his wings against his back.

The five consuls sat behind a curved wooden stretched podium that was embedded into the wall facing the gathered Icyene. Hundreds of them were in the hearing room, Icyene from the many military branches of the Consulate's power. Inquisitors, Wingmen from the Corps, even private security teams and notorious bounty hunters and freelancers gathered in the hall.

All had come by the dictate of the Grand Consul herself, and all could not think of one place they'd rather be.

"Assembled warriors of the Lord of Light," began Kalmii, the Consul of Relations. "I am more than delighted to see you all gathered with us here today. The High Consul, may she be revered, has returned from her sabbatical and communion with Saradomin and claims to bring news of immense joy!"

Cheers and "hoo-ahs!" Went up from the assembled Icyene. Phane whooped with the lot of them, and Padomenes punched the air with a hearty laugh.

"She has communicated with us from a place beyond New Domina," said Raerun, Consul of Innovation. "But she has declared that her time of arrival is imminent, in fact almost to the minute."

More cheers. Phane felt his skin crawl with excitement. The feeling reminded him of the barn, and his excitement tapered. He pushed away the thought and looked flatly ahead awaiting the High Consul.

Phane had seen the High Consul only once and a few times in artwork. All he knew from when he saw her at her public address was that she was not Icyene, but led the Icyenic Consulate. This never made much sense to Phane, and he would often ask his father,

"If she isn't one of us, why do we listen to her above everyone else?"

And his father would reply, "Because my boy, she is to Saradomin as you are to me."

A net of blue lines began to shimmer on a plinth set into the floor. All Icyene in the area vacated the space and turned to look in amazed wonder at their luck; they'll see the return of Her Ladyship from an arm's length away!

"Back away please!" Came the commanding voice of Zilyana, Consul of Peace. "Allow maximum room for her Ladyship's triumphant return."

Phane imagined the paintings and sculptures he had seen of the High Consul, who never aged and who had ruled from before the memories of any Icyene Phane had ever asked. He imagined her slender frame, her fair skin, her long golden hair (a color unseen amongst the Icyene, only among the centaurs) and her lack of wings. Phane wondered how a thing so slender and flightless could wield all the power of the Day of New Domina without anyone attempting to seize control. Consul positions were vied for and violence was not unheard of, but he had never even heard a rumor of an attempt on the Grand Consul position.

The strands of blue magic hummed and pulsed intensely, and in a flash of light and smoke, a female form appeared on the plinth, standing tall and proud through the haze.

Icyene turned their heads from the magic smoke and when they turned back, gasps and mutters erupted across the whole room. Phane even heard weapons being drawn. Even the Consuls looked alarmed, Zilyana jumped from her seat to float in the air, mouth agape.

Phane waited for the smoke to clear before her saw her. She was just as he remembered with two distinct differences. Her once-golden hair was now a shimmering silver that spilled out from beneath a foreign-looking silver crown. And while Icyene came in many skin tones, from the lightest alabaster to copper to black as the Night sky, the High Consul had taken on a hue only seen on one other being through history.

And he hadn't set foot on New Domina on over a thousand years.

The High Consul declared in a voice of divine confidence that echoed twice; once due to the room, once due to magic: "People of New Domina. Icyene, Centaurs, Lions, and Pygmies. All in the Light, hear my words."

Everything was silent. Floating Icyene landed to stare at the returned High Consul, silver hair flowing on under wind and blue skin glowing in the crowd of icyene. "I, Sara, High Consul, have returned to New Domina. I have taken time away to achieve my birthright as the daughter of Saradomin."

At this some shouts erupted. Someone even shouted, "Blasphemer!" In the cacophony. Phane didn't know what to think yet but he didn't like this.

"I am the sole survivor of my home world, Domina. Our benevolent Lord took his name from the two things he held most dear, myself and his home. And now, he seeks to reclaim what he has lost, and has sent me as his divine emissary. As a demigod and daughter of the God of Wisdom, I will lead us in a worldwide victory for the cause of peace."

Padomenes shouted with incredible fervor at this mention, as did many other Icyene. In fact, Phane was the only one he could see not cheering at the top of their lungs. Because he knew what it meant when a Consul said peace.

War.

The next two days flew by for Phane as the Inquisitors were all briefed on what would be the boldest offensive in the history of New Domina, and one that depended solely on divine action. Phane was swept from place to place, following his team as he met Commanders, Generals, and Flight Leaders, titles never needed by Consulate Forces. Police were made to go to War and vigilantes were made into commandos. War had never been planned in Phane's lifetime, it just happened. This was all so different. On several occasions Phane even got private briefing from Consul, now Commander, Zilyana herself, a legendary war hero who was successor to the previous Consul of Peace after losing his life in the very battle Zilyana triumphed in. Everyone celebrated her and she was formidable without a doubt, but Phane suspected politics had more to do with her ascension to the bench than she let on.

In briefing, Zilyana was well-spoken and exuded confidence to all present. She detailed a plan that should be impossible but somehow, she made Phane believe it. As she rotated the metal sphere that accurately represented the many islands and seas of their world, Phane felt a spark of excitement begin to build up in him. Perhaps the High Consul's return was truly the dawning of a golden age for the Icyene.

The plan that Sara, High Consul and apparent daughter of Saradomin, had devised was nothing short of mad. For millennia, the Rolnik and Icyene had chased each other around the world with the sun, and such was the way of the world. Everyone knew that to wage a war into the Night would be catastrophic and unsustainable. But leave it to a demigod to suggest removing the Night all together.

After her address to the Icyene crowds Sara spoke briefly of the details of her plan to the military leaders so that they could prepare, and from what Phane understood, Sara intended to open a portal across the beyond-world and bring in the light of a second sun. A second. Sun. One on the opposite end of the earth that would illuminate the Night and allow the Icyene to make a complete offensive into the new day and push the Rolnik from the surface of their world, likely enslaving the feline race or, if they refused, eradicating the species. Sara declared this with so much joy and hope that Phane cheered despite his heart's tug at his morality. The extinction of the Rolnik... it would end most conflicts on New Domina but... extinction...

The plan was to light to Night for seventy-seven hours, as was dictated by Saradomin to Sara in her communion. Then the world would continue to rotate as it had, but the Night would be the home of the unthinking animals and insects of the world. The Rolnik would no longer worry the Icyene. Because they would no longer exist. The idea exceeded Phane's comprehension.

In two days, plans were made. Icyenic teams lined up all along the Roving Dawn. All messengers from the Rolnik, who were understandably worried at the show of force, were sent home with no statements from anyone. The winged vanguards waited silently at the border of Night and Day. Centaurs, Lions, and Pygmies joined the Icyene in some places. Pygmies wore armor made from animal skins as wielded weapons made of bones they crafted or broken pieces of Icyenic and Rolnik armaments. Phane imagined a pygmy fighting a Rolnik; the pygmy might go up to the cat's thigh when it stood upright. He respected their courage and faith in Saradomin to fight this final war for New Domina.

Centaurs trotted around carrying messages, and in a few dozen points around the globe they gathered in massive numbers, outnumbering the Icyene by 3 to 1 where they chose to put themselves. They gathered on the few land-bridges that connected Day to Night. Phane had flown over one of the assembled groups of stabled centaurs and marveled at the strength they brought to the fight. Perhaps this was truly Saradomin's will. Even the wild Lions came in armor made by centaurs, predator and prey fighting for a common cause.

Phane landed with Padomenes. The six Inquisitor teams were all held back from the front lines and travelled with the High Consul. Sara claimed that she had begun her magic in the south pole, but must finish it in the North. She planned to go alone, but Padomenes would not hear of it, nor the other Inquisitor captains. So, with a retinue of over fifty Icyene, Sara made her way on the back of an ancient centaur matriarch that had shown up at the city some days back intending to act as the High Consul's steed. For a centaur to allow anyone to ride them was a rarity, and for one to volunteer the usually-humiliating act was unheard of. But I suppose if your cargo is a demigod, what should be embarrassing quickly becomes a great honor.

It took those two days for Phane and the rest of the retinue to reach the edge of the North pole. Like the south pole was always bathed in light, the North was perpetually black. Although no permanent Rolnik settlement existed there, it was considered the one place no Icyene should travel to. And now fifty of the finest were about to escort the daughter of their god straight to its epicenter.

The Icyene landed on a frozen glacier a few hundred yards from where the sea turned from magnificent dark blue to rolling shades of purple and black as Night overtook the sky. Sara dismounted and the water in front of her feet froze into a walkable path.

"You needn't come with me," Sara spoke, gently, as ran her hands across the elegant sides of the centaur's front legs, it's white cost gleaming like snow. Sara's blue skin contrasted brightly against the dark night sky. "Saradomin has said that this place is not for you, Icyene, not for now. Nor for you, Bree, noble centaurs and friend. This is a trip I will make alone."

"You certainly shall not!" One of the Inquisitor captains spoke. All eyes turned to him and some Icyene muttered their agreements softly.

Sara laughed softly and faced the huge Icyene captain. "Servant of Saradomin, I am safe, although I thank you for your company. May the sun's light guide you." She said and smiled, a twinkle in her eye.

"Well of we choose to go with you, are you going to stop us?" The captain continued.

Sara laughed to herself once again. "I suppose not. You are free to do what you wish, Inquisitor."

"Then we'll be going with you!" The captain declared and his team took to the air from the mass of landed Icyene.

"And you'll not be going alone!" Called Padomenes, who motioned for us to take to the air as well. The other captains stoically stared at the dark Night sky. So, it was to be two teams of Inquisitors from here, then.

Phane did not want to go, but his teammates all rose into the air, and he went with them. He saw the unknown shores in the darkness and wondered what prowler among them. Surely if Sara was the daughter of Saradomin, she didn't need protectors... So why were they going? To stoke their captains' pride? To impress Saradomin, assuming he was even watching his daughter go into the most dangerous place on New Domina? Phane longed to speak out but held his tongue. Ancient minds unlike his own had made this plan, surely in his youth he was just paranoid. Phane got into a two-lined formation behind Padomenes and watched Sara from the air as she froze the tumbling sea and strode lightly across its surface. She was the embodiment of calm as she entered an unknown environment. Phane was inspired somewhat by her dauntlessness.

Finally Sara's feet stepped on the frozen earth of the North pole, and her Icyene retinue landed behind her. She walked forward without addressing any of the valiant Icyene who chose to follow her. She paid no attention to the bitter cold that permeated the air and froze the Icyene's feather together and made their hollow skeletons quiver for lack of warmth. Sara, in only a travel coat and light armor, seemed unfazed by the inhospitable conditions as she walked through snow and across plains of ice toward an unknown destination, her Icyene behind her every step.

Finally she stopped in a place where the winds seemed to change direction at a whim and where the air was so cold Phane couldn't even feel it; he was completely numb. His teeth chartered silently, his discipline keeping them from distracting the demigod from her work. She gathered light into each of her hands and illuminated the dark place, and as she spoke soft words under her breath, the light grew and grew.

Phane stood back shoulder to shoulder with his Captain, who smiled despite the cold. Ice crystals had formed on his beard and eyebrows and a sheen of frost covered his plate armor, but his eyes seemed to be on fire as he watched the High Consul work.

As Sara channeled the magic, a thin column of orange light connected the earth to the sky that grew as she fueled the colossal spell. It was more magic than Phane had ever seen any team of archmages possess and Sara did it without showing any strain, each of her movements fluid and full of purpose. Maybe there was something divine about her after all. Phane noticed flakes of snow stopping in midair and curls of wind ceasing to move around her as her magic stunned the soul of the world.

And with a great tear, the earth shot up a blast of fire along the path of the column of light. The Icyene watched it ascend into the Night sky, a fiery beacon rising to the cloudless void. It continued until it was only another star in the sky, and then ceased to be seen entirely.

Sara continued to look up, a content grin on her blue face. The Icyene looked around, confused. The spell hadn't -

Everything stopped abruptly as an incredible boom shook the ice, upturned the packed snow and knocked Icyene to the ground. When Phane opened his eyes and rubbed his sore elbow, he had to rapidly blink to adjust his eyes.

Daylight. He looked around. The landscape hadn't changed but in the sky burned a light identical to his own sun. Warmth permeated his frozen skin as the new sun warmed the earth.

So it had worked then. The second sun. Phane heard cheering and praises to Saradomin as the Icyene rebelled in the beginning of their greatest victory.

Phane shield his eyes from the new light and looked at Sara.

She looked right back at him.

"Saradomin be praised," she said matter-of-factly.

Phane hesitated under the weight of her bright blue eyes. "Uhh, thank - Yes." He cleared his throat. "Saradomin be praised."

The High Consul acknowledged him with a curt nod and then made way for the waiting Inquisitors on the opposite shore.

Phane walked in the light of the new day across snow and packed ice. He felt warmth ease his aching bones and revive his numb limbs. Could the new sun be real? Phane remembered Sara's plan and how the sun would be there for only seventy-seven hours. Then What? It just disappears? Phane felt the heat on his skin and worried something far direr may come of this radical plan.

But the result was unmistakable. A second sun burned above the north pile of New Domina. It was impossible but happening. Phane still couldn't believe it, but his awe was interrupted by the howls of unseen creatures. They wailed in fear. Pure terror was carried on the cries.

Icyene whirled around and drew weapons from their sheaths with the satisfying slide of metal on metal. Phane pulled his wand from its loop on his belt and began to mouth the words for a protection spell.

From over a glistening ridge of packed snow came two lanky figures, bounding on four legs. They considered the sky and howled in agony.

Rolnik.

Inquisitors kept their discipline and maintained the element of surprise. They moved silently, flapping their wings just enough to remain above the packed snow. Sara followed on foot, her feet making no sound as they crunched into the ice that covered the ground.

The Rolnik, surprisingly, began to speak in a broken dialect of the common tongue. Saradomin's language? Phane had always been told and always believed that the Rolnik were savages, not given the gift of Saradomin's words. But Phane heard one Rolnik loudly declare it a raspy voice,

"It is come! End of Nights! Blue Giant has abandons us!"

While the Rolnik continued his hysterics the other cat turned on a heel as an Inquisitor brushed the top of a snow bank. The Rolnik spotted the chunks of snow rolling down and grabbed his friend, still spouting nonsense. He pointed in the direction of the hidden Icyene. Phane watched from a narrow crack between two dunes of snow as the Rolnik motioned to something beyond their view, over the crest of the higher ridge upon which the Rolnik stood.

And Phane watched as a dozen more lanky cats joined the two on the hill and spoke to each other frantically. Phane heard more mentions of the "End of Nights" and the "Blue Giant." Phane considered an obvious answer to who the giant might be but couldn't think the blasphemous thought.

More Rolnik assembled on the crested hill, more and more pointing toward the broken snow bank. After a few minutes, the first of them slunk towards the bank on all fours. Phane watched as the Rolnik stalked less than twelve feet away and he couldn't hear a sound from the creature. Phane estimated the cat weighed over two hundred pounds but the packed snow supported its weight without complaint. It was a sobering reminder to Phane that even though they fought under the sun, they were still in Rolnik territory. They weren't at a complete advantage like he and many other Icyene had hoped.

With a nod Padomenes and the other captain covered their weapons in red fire with an audible whoosh. The stalking Rolnik heard, and with their ears pulled back and their tails straight upright, they stood to their full height as the Inquisitors left their hiding places and charged.

A battle between an Icyene and Rolnik is a give and take. Phane learned their biology in training in the Corps though he had rarely ever seen one, and only seen one fight once while he was still just a grunt. But now that he approached one at a headlong charge he realized several challenges he'd have to overcome. One was the question of height. Phane was less than six feet in stature, and not considered especially short for his species. Padomenes was only five feet five inches tall, a fact he took pride in. "More pinch per inch!" He'd say when his height was brought up. But the cats towered above them at eight feet tall on average, and Phane noticed that there was quite a wide height spectrum between the smaller cats and huge, towering warriors. Phane wasn't ready as he and another Inquisitor on his team landed mere feet before a Rolnik that must have been at least ten feet in height when standing on its hind legs. Thick fur the color of dirty snow covered his legs and torso. Perfect camouflage for an arctic environment. These Rolnik were perfectly adapted for the environment they now fought in.

The second challenge became clear as the Rolnik in the back began to unsheathe their weapons. Hums and buzzes filled the air as energy was pulled from their land and focused around small objects to make lethal projectiles. Shards of ice the size of Phane's closed fist whirred by faster than a skypouncer could ever dream of running and shattered against the snow banks or embedded themselves in the packed surface. Phane didn't know how to counter these launchers except with magic; there were no rangers among the Icyene, no trade of fletching to supply archers. The only Icyene able to fight from a range were mages like Phane, and each Inquisitor team had only two each.

The Inquisitor next to Phane held a long silver sword and a small round buckler on the opposite arm. The Rolnik attacked with no weapons, only six-inch-long claws raked at his adversary. The sword parried the deadly blades away and his shield caught some of the glancing blows. Phane cast a spell of quickening on his alky, allowing him to counter the Rolnik's incredible speed as his arms raked at the Inquisitor. Phane mended the steel of the shield from afar and gave his energy to him to enhance his senses. Phane's combat magic was okay, but he was better used to assist the real combatants in their duels.

With a tricky twist of his arm the Inquisitor put a long gash down the inside of one of the Rolnik's arms. Red blood matted in its gray fur and it howled as the Inquisitor went in for a killing strike. Phane put up a ward around the warrior to prevent any surprises. Sure enough, the Rolnik kicked at him with a clawed foot but the sharp nails bounced off the ward and the Inquisitor put his sword through the cat's throat. The Rolnik screamed, though little sound made it past the silver blade that blocked his throat. The tall creature spasmed and then lay still, more red blood running over its fur and onto the virgin snow.

Phane went to help the next battle and the next. He took to the air for a moment to avoid a Rolnik's attack, but was grounded quickly after two close calls with energized projectiles. He channeled his battle magic where he could but it was not fifteen minutes into the skirmish when Phane saw four claws pierce the chainmail of one of his Inquisitor sisters, and with a screech, a Rolnik tore open her armor and then her. It tossed the body to its side, Icyene blood gushing from the huge wound it left. One of her wings was broken but Phane knew she never felt it. An Inquisitor was dead.

Phane continued his work until the Rolnik forces retreated. In a long hour, they had together killed eleven Rolnik and suffered only one death of their own. The remaining Rolnik sprinted toward their energizer gunners in retreat from the superior Icyene force. The faraway Rolnik lowered their weapons and retreated with their kin.

"A servant of Saradomin has failed to do his duty." Came a commanding female voice from behind Phane. He turned and was met by the stern blue face of High Consul Sara. "Mage. When they retreated why did you not hassle their retreat and take another down to meet the decree of our Lord Saradomin? He has decreed that the Rolnik will die. Would you betray this?" The consul asked, nearby Icyene looking on in palpable anxiety.

"No ma'am." Phane said flatly, smartly hiding his shock at the accusation. He had never attacked a retreating enemy and had never been told to. But then again he had never stood in the light of a temporary sun with a demigod either.

"Luckily it is not too late. Hesitate again and you will join Saradomin much sooner than you hope, mage," the Grand Consul spoke as she turned her back to him. Her maroon cape fluttered behind him as she began to pull magic from the earth.

A portal swirled in all shades of blue at about eye level some ten feet from the High Consul as Sara's magic anchored itself. And through the magic hole tumbled terrified Rolnik. They howled and struggled but found they were surrounded. Each of them raised both furry paws if they were able; a universal symbol of surrender.

"For Saradomin." Sara said and took the hand of an older-looking Rolnik. The Rolnik elder got to her feet, and when Sara released, she immediately pulled a ball of white and blue fire together from thin air and launched it through the standing elder.

The old Rolnik fell and while the captured cats began to protest and cry out in anger, Sara waved a hand and a blanket of blue fire fell over the heaped Rolnik. Images of the barn flashed in Phane's head as he listened to the crackle of the fire and the choking screams of the dying. The smell of burning fur choked him and clogged his nose and throat.

Every Icyene present watched in solemnity at the High Consul's massacre. The fire refused to be put out by water and appeared to have no effect on the ice and snow the burning Rolnik rolled around on. The fire spell was designed and cast exclusively to cause pain and death to living things.

Fire reflected in Sara's eyes in the world of ice as she stared over the crawling, blackening bodies of the Rolnik. Most were still and the fires only smoke. She looked straight at me again, and said, "This is the mercy of Saradomin. That they should die quickly and not live in fear for the course of his holy purge. I expect it from you all. No more and no less. We have seventy-six hours. Saradomin be praised." And with that the demigod shimmered for a moment and was gone, phased away into thin air with ancient teleportation magic, leaving two teams of Inquisitors, minus one, to ponder what the next three days would bring.

Sara could not possibly be the daughter of the Saradomin Phane worshipped.

For three days he did not sleep. He ate and ate, he took from frontier Icyene where he had too and raided the empty shelters of Rolnik to fill his vegetarian diet with enough calories to sustain the three-day crusade. Everything about this war seemed so wrong.

First, Sara was merciless and demanded the same from her officers who demanded the same from their grunts. The only ones capturing Rolnik were the bounty hunters who usually preferred the dead side of "dead or alive." And those prisoners didn't live long once a high-ranking officer found out about them. But the hunters still got paid so they kept bringing them in.

Second, the artificial light had made time seem to stop on New Domina. It wasn't natural to not have a night and day cycle, even as slow as his world's was. His body would go from fully alert to exhausted without warning because there was no way to tell time or the day. For seventy-seven hours Phane and his Icyene brothers and sisters lived only to purge the Rolnik from existence.

Phane had killed six of the cats in the three-day period, but had assisted in the defeat of hundreds more. He was a support mage but when push came to shove he was a stronger mage than a terrified Rolnik could overcome. The bodies were burned and everything on the planet smelled like burnt hair. The smell began to make Phane gag after the first day, but now, at the turn of day four and the final hours, it had ceased to have any effect on him at all. Everything was numb.

He had seen the High Consul once since the north pole, when they were attacking a fortified Rolnik settlement along the former Roving Dawn. Sara ran ahead of charging centaurs and flying Icyene and tore the wooden walls down and pulled huge stones from the earth to dislodge their fortifications. She was no daughter of a God of peace. She loved the war. She loved her power.

Phane had had enough of all of it.

On day two after a particularly grisly battle in which he was routed, forced away from his team and had to dispatch two Rolnik all on his own, he made rendezvous with his team to find two of his team members, fellow Inquisitors and friends had died to the Rolnik and Padomenes was critical. Two dead and two more carried the captain back to the south pole for treatment. Phane and the remaining two inquisitors on his team agreed to just join with whatever Corps forces they could find. But to see that death, that death that would never have happened without Sara's return... Phane resented her for it. It was her fault.

Phane knew this but dare not speak it aloud. Everyone was tired and wounded and at wits end. Phane spent a lot of time healing wounds that would normally ground an Icyene for a week if not more. Icyene came to him walking on broken legs or carrying weapons in shattered hands. Something about the second sun gave them an unnatural endurance.

Phane was with a large group of Wingmen that were closing in on retreating groups of Rolnik in a hilly area only a few square miles. The ring of forces that lined the roving dawn three days ago moved inward and would eventually meet at this spot in the dead of what-was-Night. Assuming none had let any Rolnik escape their grasp, the cats would have their last stand here.

Phane's wand shook in his hand as he noticed the terrified Rolnik darting between hills trying to find cover as the trap cinched closed. They were surrounded. He watched more Rolnik dart into the area only to realize too late that they were out of places to run.

"Hour seventy-seven," said a Wingman to my left. He looked tired, blue circles visible under his eyes even on his deep brown skin. Three white lines graced his cheek where a Rolnik got a lucky hit, but the wound was not recent. How many had the Rolnik hurt? Phane's doubt faltered. Perhaps Sara was right and this act of violence would create lasting peace. Phane wondered; was this genocide justified?

From behind came the terrified howls Phane had gotten used to hearing. The Wingman drew two short swords and watched the three Rolnik sprint straight at him. They were being pursued by half a dozen centaurs with bows. The Icyene lunged and stabbed one through the heart and nicked another, its wound bleeding over the soft ground where snow had been less than a day before. An arrow from behind whizzed forward and sunk into the back of the remaining Rolnik's neck, and he fell face-first into the mud, spasmed slightly, and was still.

The wounded Rolnik hit his knees and clutched the wound the other Icyene had given him. Phane had his wand pointed at the creature's face. Yellow eyes looked up at Phane and pleaded,

"Blue Giant never allow! He punish in your future!"

Phane hesitated. "Blue- who is the Giant?" Phane felt like he knew the answer but he wanted to hear it for himself.

"The Crown-User! The no-hair Rolnik with blue outside, small ears! God of Rolnik and one who punish you when death!"

The choppy confirmation hit Phane like a sucker punch. He felt the air leave his body, and the yellow eyes before his wand remained open in terror. Phane was frozen, he couldn't move. A silver flash came into vision and the Rolnik's head bounced away from its body down the far side of the hill they were standing on. Phane looked up, mouth open in shock at the scarred Icyene. He had heard it speak too.

"Do they - are they?" Phane tried to ask but found the words wouldn't work with him.

"They know Saradomin..." The dark-skinned Icyene spoke softly in wonder. "But it does not mean they follow him. Not as we do. We are the chosen of Him. Now let us continue his work, brother," he said and flew into the air to find another Rolnik to slay.

Phane couldn't move. He hit the ground hard on his hip but only felt a numb pulse as he crashed to the earth, the weight of the truth hitting him harder than his impact. The Rolnik, who the Saradominists had always thought and taught were godless idol-worshippers, knew Saradomin. The dark-dwellers knew the Lord of Light? It was impossible but there the truth was. The Rolnik revered Saradomin in their own way, and by order of Saradomin's daughter, they were being hunted to extinction.

It was the final hour. Phane's last chance to contribute to the events that would change the course of history on New Domina forever.

And he did not back down.

Taking to the air, he magically enhanced his voice and yelled,

"STOP!"

The hills rang with his voice as conversations halted and every head turned to face him. He flew some twenty feet in the air now to make sure he could be seen.

"The Rolnik!" He began, suddenly unsure of what message he intended to give. "They know Saradomin! They live in the dark but are not without light!"

The gathered Icyene looked to each other, confused. The scarred Wingman from earlier looked to Phane and shook his head.

"We are completing the eradication of an entire species that loves Saradomin! Why would he order us to do this?" Phane asked incredulously to his silent audience. No reply. He didn't expect one.

Now he was going to say something he was sure he would regret.

"I do not believe this order came from Saradomin!" He declared. The hills erupted into shouts. Many threw accusations of heresy and blasphemy at Phane. A few Icyene, very few, flew up to hover beside him, also having drawn the same conclusion. He took strength in their solidarity. He was not alone in his doubts.

"High Consul Sara may bear the appearance of our god but not his words! Cease the crusade and let this hour elapse with the Rolnik still alive! We can make amends and make lasting peace as Saradomin would want!"

One more Icyene flew up to join him, making five with Phane, surrounded by hundreds of grounded Icyene, centaurs, lions, and Pygmies. Everything was silent as a bright spot of auburn made its way through the crowd to just below where Phane was flying.

"You speak heresy of the highest order against the daughter of Saradomin," Commander Zilyana said. "Beg forgiveness and I will stay your execution, Inquisitor."

Phane looked down at her, her face hard but her eyes pleading Phane to surrender. Maybe she believed what he said too...?

Phane felt a warm tear run down his cheek. "I can't..." he spoke softly as the tear fell to the thawed earth below.

He spoke louder, "I won't."

Zilyana sighed with genuine grief and drew her sword. "Then may Saradomin have mercy."

With a raise of her enchanted blade the five Icyene lost their ability to move entirely and hurtled to the ground. Phane wanted to grunt as he felt his bones break but found he couldn't even draw breath, the binding spell was so potent. Zilyana came behind him and bound his hands and wings.

"You will be branded a heretic, Inquisitor. I hope your little rally was worth it."

Phane felt a small fire ignite in his heart as his breath returned and the binding spell wore off; he was now only physically restricted by Zilyana's bonds. Phane felt that warmth grow and he smiled as he knelt on the ground. It was worth it, and he'd do it again given the chance.

With a tug the heretical Inquisitor and his cohorts were pulled to a centaur-drawn cart and thrown in with trophies and spoils of the genocide, and he slept for the first time in over seventy-seven hours.

When Phane awoke he was almost back to Saradomin's City. His was still bound and lay next to a dark stone idol the Icyene must have taken from the Rolnik. Phane looked at the crown it wore and was shocked to find it identical to the one he always saw Saradomin wearing in the old art pieces. How could the whole Consulate and Military ignore the possibility that they were being manipulated?

Phane heard nothing but the clacking of wheels on earth or ice depending on where the chariot needed to cross, New Domina was a world of islands and travel was impossible without wings or a cryomage to freeze the water before crossing. Phane could squirm and see the shining spires of the City now. He smiled flatly as he realized the fate that awaited him there.

When the chariot arrived the four Icyenic prisoners were needed into individual cells in a desolate dungeon made of the same translucent blue metal as the rest of the buildings. Phane saw distorted shapes of the other prisoners through the not-quite-opaque walls.

"Inquisitor." One of the voices said. It was female and Phane couldn't pinpoint its source. He looked at each of the prisoners but none seemed to be paying him any mind.

"Inquisitor," the voice said again, this time directly to Phane's left. Outside of the enchanted metal mesh that formed the third wall of his cell was a young female Icyene who bore no military badges of office. She wore plain clothes covered in a white smock and had her light brown hair pulled back to fall between her white wings. Freckles dotted her cheeks and nose as she looked at Phane with ice blue eyes like Sara's. Phane shivered.

"Yes," Phane said without looking completely at the woman. She guessed she was around his age give or take a decade. With Icyene it's hard to tell sometimes, they age so slowly after their first ten years. The woman jumped slightly at Phane's voice as if she hasn't expected a response.

"I- I came down to see you." She said, stumbling over her words. Phane smiled a little bit at her nervousness and the nervous tick they shared.

"Obviously," said Phane with a chuckle, still facing the wall. "What can a heretic do for you?"

No reply. Phane waited and then finally turned to fully face the woman. She was staring at him with a mix of awe, fear, and curiosity.

"Say what you came to say. I'm not an animal to be gawked at," Phane said coldly.

The girl backed away from his cell. Phane had complete control over his arms and legs though his wings were still bound. He hadn't realized he stood up when he spoke last.

"I'm sorry..." Phane said and backed away from the mesh and the girl until his wings touched the metal rear wall. "I'm just on edge." Phane gestured to his surroundings as if to explain the obvious reason why.

"No, I-" the girl stammered. "I just wanted to know if it's true. That you spoke out against the High Consul and the crusade."

Phane hesitated and stared hard into the other Icyene's eyes. "Yeah," He said. "It's not right and I couldn't stay quiet about it anymore. Turns out speech is only free when it's not against a self-proclaimed demigoddess."

"You committed heresy," the girl said, as if heresy and speaking one's mind had no common thread. "You went against the Consulate, direct orders from the High Consul herself and the movement of every race of Saradomin!" The girl sighed, exasperated. She looked at the ground.

"I just want to tell you that I think you're brave," she said softly. She turned to go.

"Wait," Phane said and took two steps toward the mesh. The girl had stopped with her back to her.

"The final hour..." Phane began. "... did they complete the crusade?"

The girl turned to Phane with a tear falling down her freckled cheek. "Inquisitor, they... they completed the crusade." She choked out and a tear fell on her other cheek.

Phane paused. He didn't want to ask the next question but he had to know.

"So they... the Rolnik?" He managed to get out as his throat tightened up, anticipating the answer.

The girl sniffed and more tears came down her face. "From what I hear from officers passing through the Consulate building..." She sobbed. "... there are no more Rolnik."

Phane's legs went numb and he slid to the floor and the girl left quickly, her sobs echoing down the empty dungeon. He looked through the walls at the other Icyene prisoners. He saw their shapes all facing him. The prisoner directly across from him looked at him straight in the eyes with a look of defeat written on her face.

Phane felt weak. He had sacrificed everything, and for what? The Rolnik were no more. Icyene weren't known for their sloppy work and especially with Sara at their backs Phane felt very bleak about any survivors out there. Phane had participated in the genocide of a sentient species that loves Saradomin... The thought made him want to vomit. For whatever was left of his life, it was guilt he would have to carry.

Phane smiled meekly. Lucky for him a heretic didn't get long to feel guilty. Heresy plus a battlefield court martial didn't bode well for Phane, not to mention the bloodlust Sara had infected everyone with. Phane was sure he would answer in blood.

He waited long hours in that cell, not eating or drinking any of the rations offered him. He felt no need to sustain himself. Soon, he would be executed. Phane felt it in his gut that his time on New Domina was very short indeed.

After an amount of time Phane couldn't distinguish he heard the magic seals that held his cell secure being lifted from one of the cells nearby. He heard the shuffling of feet and soft voices, then the closing of a heavy door. Nothing more for at least an hour until the same sounds happened again. Phane tried to see through the walls but the shapes were too obscured by the prismatic metal.

He waited. Two more prisoners were fetched and taken away. Then he finally saw the two Icyene Consulate Guards, huge Icyene paladins who defended the City with immense strength granted from Saradomin. The guards deactivated the mesh and took the female Icyene opposite his cell up between them and escorted her out. The prisoner asked questions rapidly and kicked at the guards but they did not pay her any mind.

Phane was the last one in the dungeon. He meditated in the silence and braced his heart for what was to come. He prayed to Saradomin for strength to face whatever was coming and for forgiveness if he had truly spoken blasphemy.

Phane still had his eyes closed when the guards opened his cell. They began to enter but Phane help up his hands in calm surrender. He walked toward them and allowed each guard to restrain one of his arms and lead him through a heavy door at the end of the hall into a wide, circular room.

Except it wasn't a room. The place had no roof, the sun burned bright above him. Rows of Icyene spectators looked down at the oncoming Icyene Inquisitor. He was met by boos and hateful shouts.

In the center of the arena was the Grand Consul herself, only about forty feet taller than normal. In both of her hands she gripped the female prisoner who was opposite Phane. Phane watched in horror as the Grand Consul addressed the audience,

"Then are we, as Icyene and lovers of our god Saradomin, united in our punishment of this blasphemer?" She proclaimed loudly and cheers erupted from the stands.

"Then may Saradomin's sentence be carried out!" She yelled, and held the Icyene in one hand.

Her other went for her wings.

"Garlandia, for associating with the heretic Phane, Saradomin revokes his gift to you."

And with a sickening tearing sound, Phane shut his eyes hard as the High Consul tore Garlandia's wings from her body. A punishment worse than death on New Domina, this Garlandia woman was an outcast for all time from society and had no wings to move with the sun. Wingless normally didn't last more than a full rotation of the sun in exile. It was a slow death sentence.

The heavy white wings fell to the earth as Phane opened his eyes. They landed with a poof as Garlandia screamed in unimaginable agony. The wingless Icyene was set down by the High Consul and as she wept and bled, the crowd cheered wildly.

Phane felt sick. He felt mad. He felt betrayed. This demigod claiming to be Saradomin's own had turned their peaceful society of law and order into a gladiator arena featuring public mutilations.

"And what gives you the right?" Phane screamed over the crowd. The crowd gasped in unison as the guards covered his mouth and forced him to his knees.

The High Consul turned to look at him in her giant form. She stared at him with her icy eyes gleaming with malice.

"Care to repeat, heretic?" She said the last word with forced diction, making the t and c click as she spoke them in disdain.

The hands fell away from his mouth and the guards released him. Phane couldn't find the will to stand, so on his knees Phane said to the demigoddess,

"What gives you the right? To carry out sentences from Saradomin? To revoke his gifts?" Phane asked.

The goddess moved her hand and in a moment Phane was suspended more than forty feet in the air, directly in front of the blue giant's face.

"BECAUSE SARADOMIN'S WILL AND MINE ARE THE SAME!" She bellowed.  
The sound deafened Phane and shrieks went up from the audience, followed by raucous hoots and cheers for Sara. Phane had never experienced hate like he did at that moment for the pretender claiming to be his god.

"Phane." Sara said venomously. "You have committed heresy, blasphemy, and ultimately treason against the Icyenic Consulate and Saradomin himself. The God of Mercy has none to spare for you. You will be destroyed."

Phane gulped hard and he hustled to the ground. The impact dissed him and as his vision danced he saw blue flames begin to lick upwards from the earth around him.

"Saradomin be praised." Phane muttered out as he felt the heat begin to crawl on his skin. A final attack on the pretender before he joined whatever afterlife awaited him with Saradomin's faithful.

"And may his sentence be carried out." Sara said with a note of delight as the flames roared to life.

Phane felt pain everywhere on his body at once. It wasn't as instant as he hoped. He watched his skin blister and tear and he screamed in agony praying to Saradomin for relief.

And as if in answer, the image of an outstretched hand entered the Icyene's mind. "Come," a voice said.

Phane imagined himself taking the hand, and in an instant, his agony was no more.


End file.
